Chapter Forty-one
Forty-one
The first light of dawn was illuminating an overcast sky when the hansom cab stopped in front of Benedict’s address. He paid the driver, descended the narrow steps to the pavement and turned to look back at Logan.
“Can I offer you a brandy, Inspector? I think we’ve both earned one. It’s been a long night.”
Logan hesitated and for a moment Benedict thought he might refuse. Then he got out of the cab.
“A brandy sounds like an excellent notion,” Logan said. “Thank you.”
They went up the steps. Benedict reached into his pocket for the key.
His fingers brushed across the Rose Necklace.
Another sharp pang of dismay splashed through him, weighing down his spirits.
He relived the moment in Warwick’s ghastly studio when Amity had looked as if she would fling herself headlong into his arms. Instead, she had composed herself and said something about his always excellent timing.
They had all agreed that it would be best if he escorted the ladies home before the press arrived. The story was bound to be a sensation, but the uproar would be even greater if the killer’s last two intended victims were discovered at the scene.
Unable to tolerate another moment in the wedding gown the killer had forced her to wear, Amity had insisted on taking the time to change back into her own dress before leaving the studio.
She did not remove the Rose Necklace until they were back in Exton Street. Benedict had the feeling that she had forgotten it. There, on the front steps, Amity had paused to thank him again, ever so politely, and then she had reached up to unclasp the necklace.
In the hazy glow of the gas lamps he thought he saw some emotion in her eyes, but he could not read it. Shock, he concluded. What else? She had been through a terrible ordeal.
“You mustn’t forget your necklace, Benedict,” she said, handing it to him. “I know how important it is to you and your family. I don’t want to take any more chances with it.”
He had left Amity and Penny in Mrs. Houston’s capable hands and returned to the grim, boarded-up house that Warwick had used as a photography studio. He had been very conscious of the weight of the necklace in his pocket while he waited for Logan to finish with the business of collecting evidence.
When Logan had eventually appeared, he had been surprised to see Benedict and the hansom in the street. But he had accepted the offer of a ride without hesitation.
“I must call on Mrs. Warwick before I go home,” he said.
“I will go in with you if you like,” Benedict said.
Logan nodded once, his face grim. “I would be glad of your company. I’m not sure what to say to a mother under these circumstances.”
In the end, however, the meeting with a stoic Charlotte Warwick had been mercifully short.
Benedict knew from the shadows in her eyes that she had been braced for the news they had brought her.
They had left her alone in her library, tears glittering in her eyes.
Benedict had gotten the odd impression that they might have been tears of relief as well as grief, but he could not be certain.
He opened the door of his house and moved into the dimly lit front hall. Hodges appeared in his nightcap and dressing gown.
“Tea or brandy, sir?” he asked.
“Brandy,” Benedict said. “But I’ll see to pouring it.”
“Yes, sir.”
Benedict led the way into the study, turned up the lamps and splashed healthy doses of brandy into two glasses.
He handed one of the glasses to Logan and motioned him to sit down.
He watched Logan lower himself into the chair with a familiar ease that indicated he was as comfortable in a gentleman’s study with a brandy glass in his hand as he was drinking tea in a lady’s drawing room.
“When did you take a notion to become a policeman, Logan?” Benedict asked.
The question clearly caught Logan by surprise but he recovered readily enough.
“Shortly after I found my father dead from a self-inflicted pistol shot to the head and discovered that he had died bankrupt after a series of disastrous financial investments.” Logan swallowed some brandy and lowered the glass.
“It was either take up gainful employment here in London or emigrate to Canada or Australia. I haven’t ruled out the last two possibilities, by the way.
In fact, I am giving both countries a great deal of consideration at the moment. ”
Benedict took the Rose Necklace out of his pocket. He studied the brilliant jewels in the lamplight for a moment and then set the thing on the desk. The heavy gold links clinked on the polished wood.
He crossed the room and lowered himself into the chair across from Logan.
“You are not the only one who is considering his prospects in Canada or Australia tonight,” he said. He drank some brandy. “And for similar reasons, I suspect.”
Logan glanced at the necklace. “She gave it back to you?”
“Yes.”
“But you did not ask for it to be returned.”
“No.”
“Well? Did you tell her you wanted her to keep it?”
Benedict frowned. “There was no opportunity to discuss the matter. She simply dropped it into my hand before she closed the door. I thought the gesture rather telling.”
“We are men, Stanbridge. We are not always very good at comprehending women.”
“You are in no position to lecture on the subject,” Benedict said.
“Is that right?”
“Bloody hell, man, even I can see that you and Penny—Mrs. Marsden—have warm feelings for each other.”
Logan’s jaw hardened. He drank some more brandy.
“At the moment I am in no position to propose marriage to her. I have made a few small investments but none have proved to be especially lucrative. Perhaps in time.” He raised one shoulder in a small shrug.
“For the most part I am obliged to survive on an inspector’s salary, at least for now. ”
“Well, at least she hasn’t flung a damned family necklace back in your face.”
Logan scowled. “I can’t imagine Miss Doncaster actually flinging the necklace at you.”
“I may have exaggerated slightly on that point, but there is no mistaking the fact that she gave the thing back to me.”
“Huh.” Logan cradled the brandy glass in his hands.
Benedict swallowed some brandy and lowered the glass. “Have you let Mrs. Marsden know that you are considering emigrating to Canada or Australia?”
“The subject of my future has not come up.”
They drank their brandies in silence for a time.
“The ladies suffered a terrible shock to the nerves tonight,” Benedict said after a while.
“We all did,” Logan said. “I certainly doubt that my nerves will ever be the same. When I think of that scene in the bastard’s studio, I feel like reaching for a vinaigrette.”
“So do I. What we need to keep in mind is that by the time we arrived Penny and Amity were in command of the situation.”
Logan smiled grimly. “I do believe they would have killed the monster.”
Benedict recalled the fierce expressions on Amity’s and Penny’s faces. “No doubt about it. They are both quite resourceful.”
Logan nodded. “Indeed, they are.”
“And brave.”
“Absolutely,” Logan said.
“Extraordinary,” Benedict said.
“Indeed.”
They drank some more brandy in silence.
Benedict rested his head against the back of the chair. “It occurs to me that you ought to clarify the matter of your future with Mrs. Marsden.”
“I don’t think I have any choice.” Logan finished his brandy and set down the glass. “I can’t imagine continuing to live here in London knowing that she is living in the same city, wondering if I’ll see her on the street or at the theater, unless I can be with her.”
“You aren’t the only one who needs clarification,” Benedict said.
He drained his glass, got to his feet, picked up the decanter and poured two more glasses of brandy.
“We need to make a plan,” he said. “Two plans.”